Acoustic

Acoustic rhythm, singing slow,
She’s naked now and she won’t go.
The mem’ry’s clear, the window glows
With frost, the sun behind it flows
It drips, opaque, smoky yellow
The glare is bright, her face in shadow.
Her fingers strum the song she knows
I’ve never heard. It comes in blows,
The chorus strong, the verses mellow,
Guitar poised, her thigh below:

“Remember me, remember though
the window’s gone, the song, the snow,
The bath we drew to warm our toes,
Today, to whom nobody owes.
Remember me, the kiss you stole
When I stopped by to say hello.”

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"All the while I have been forgetting the third of my reasons for remaining so faithful a citizen of the Federation, despite all the lascivious inducements from expatriates to follow them beyond the seas, and all the surly suggestions from patriots that I succumb. It is for the reason which grows out of my medieval but unashamed taste for the bizarre and indelicate, my congenital weakness for comedy of the grosser varieties. The United States, to my eye, is incomparably the greatest show on earth."